Chapter 5
five
. . .
Tessa
“Hey. Nathan,” my dad answers after the first ring, not expecting me to be on the other end of the line. “What can I do for you this evening?”
“Daddy,” I say, and my voice cracks. In an instant, I feel like a little girl again—knees scraped, tears threatening. I didn’t realize how shaken I was until I heard his voice.
“Tessa…” he draws my name out with that familiar mix of worry and resignation. “Honey, why are you calling me from Chief Hale’s phone? What have you done this time?”
A breathy laugh escapes me. “Everything’s fine, Daddy. Just had a little car trouble.”
“Where are you, sweetheart? I’ll come get you.”
“You can’t,” I say quickly. “The roads are shut down. I’m at Chief Hale’s place. He said I could stay here tonight, and we’ll deal with the SUV in the morning.”
“And you’re sure you’re okay?”
“Yes, I’m just fine,” I say, blinking hard against the sting in my eyes.
“Alright, baby girl. If you’re sure. Call us in the morning?”
“I will.” My throat tightens. “I’m okay. Promise.”
“Try not to cause too much trouble for Chief Hale,” he teases gently. “We love you, sweetheart.”
“Love you, too.”
I end the call and hand Nathan his phone, managing a watery smile. “Thanks for that.”
“Car trouble, is that what we’re calling it?” he asks, amusement tugging at his mouth.
“Not entirely untrue,” I say with a shrug. But the next second, my chest tightens and the tears I’ve been holding back finally spill. A small, broken sound escapes me before I can stop it.
Nathan’s expression softens instantly. He closes the distance between us, wrapping me up in his arms like it’s the most natural thing in the world.
“Hey,” he murmurs against my hair. “You’re okay. You’re safe now.”
The low rumble of his voice, the steady thump of his heart—it all unravels me.
He presses a soft kiss to the top of my head. “Cars can be replaced, Tessa. You can’t.”
I nod against his chest, trying to breathe through the mess of emotion. His shirt smells like cedar, smoke, and home.
After a moment, he eases back just enough to look down at me. “You’re still freezing. And soaked.”
“I’m fine,” I start to protest, but he gives me that look—the one that used to stop me in my tracks when I was a teenager.
“Go shower,” he says gently. “Get warm. I’ll bring you dry clothes.”
There’s no room for argument in his tone—just quiet care.
“Okay,” I whisper, brushing a tear from my cheek.
He nods toward the hall. “Second door on the left. Towels are on the shelf by the sink.”
When I turn, he adds, his tone a bit softer, “Take your time.”
“Thanks,” I say, voice a little hoarse. I’m still half-shivering, half…something else. “I promise not to use up all the hot water.”
“Not worried about that,” he says, and the corner of his mouth lifts. It’s barely a smile but it's enough to make my pulse stutter.
I slip into the bathroom and shut the door, leaning against it for a second before turning the shower on full blast. My reflection in the mirror is a mess—cheeks flushed, hair a disaster. “Get it together, Pope,” I mutter. “He’s the police chief. You used to drive this man insane for fun.”
Stripping down and stepping under the spray, I sigh as the warmth begins to melt the chill right out of me.
I’m rinsing Nathan’s citrus shampoo out of my hair when I hear a knock on the door.
“Tess, is it okay if I open the door and set clothes on the counter for you?” he asks from the other side.
“Uh. Yeah. Sure.” I turn my back so he won’t catch a peek, even though the navy buffalo checkered shower curtain is pretty solid.
My heart strums in my chest as I hear the door open. There’s a tiny bit of shuffling and he must pause for a beat because all I can hear is his gruff breathing. And then, the click of the door as it shuts again.
The breath I’d been holding escapes, along with a rogue thought about wishing he would have stayed. Wishing he would have joined me.
I shake my head and laugh to myself. “Yeah right. Like Hale’s got any interest in a girl like me.”
By the time I emerge with my hair damp and almost drowning in Nathan’s clothes, the power’s flickering. The cabin echoes with storm noise—wind howling, trees groaning. Nathan’s crouched by the fireplace, feeding another log into the flames.
The room glows orange and gold. Shadows move over his shoulders as he straightens, another glass of bourbon in one hand. “Figured we better eat while we’ve got power,” he says, nodding toward the coffee table where two pizzas and plates are waiting. “Hope you like pepperoni.”
“I don’t think I’ve had frozen pizza since college,” I say, shuffling across the floor in the pair of thick wool socks he left for me.
He huffs a quiet laugh. “You poor thing.”
I eye the glass of amber liquid in his hand. “You got another one of those?”
“I don’t know, kid. I’m not trying to corrupt you with my vices.”
“Please. Pretty sure we could both agree that I’ve been corrupted since I was at least sixteen,” I tease.
That earns me a look—sharp and amused. “You mean since you set off fireworks behind the lighthouse?”
I grin. “Hey, that was patriotic.”
“You nearly set the grass in the dunes on fire.”
“Details.”
He shakes his head, but I can see the smile tugging at his mouth. “You and your friends were a menace.”
“Was it the fireworks or the fact that we convinced your rookie to drive us home that got me on your bad side?”
“The rookie part,” he admits. “He didn’t stop talking about you for a month.”
I bite my lip and right back a laugh. “Jealous, Chief?”
He looks at me over the rim of his glass, his expression a cross between annoyed and perhaps a little…possesive. “You were seventeen.”
“Eighteen,” I correct softly. “Barely. Is your memory starting to go with your advanced age?”
He turns away with a huff that I can’t interpret and busies himself at a small bar setup before handing me the glass of amber liquid I asked for.
It feels like he’s pretending the last part of our conversation never happened, but I’m no fool, I see the tension in his shoulders and the way his jaw flexes as he heads back into the living room.
Following his lead, I sit across from him on the rug in front of the fireplace and snag a slice of pizza before taking a sip of the bourbon he poured me. The heat of the liquid chases through me like courage. “You ever get lonely out here?”
“Sometimes.” He looks into the fire, the light catching on his profile, softening it. “But quiet doesn’t bother me.”
“It used to bother me,” I admit. “Now it’s kind of nice. Not that the city is quiet. My apartment can be though.”
My heart beats louder than the wind outside while I wait for him to say something…anything.
When I glance at him, he’s watching me, and I can’t help but feel it’s not the way a man looks at someone he just rescued. No. It’s the way a man looks at someone he shouldn’t want but does anyway.
“Nathan…” I whisper, unsure if I’m issuing a warning or an invitation.
He doesn’t move closer, but he doesn’t look away either.
Something flickers across his face—restraint, maybe, or regret. “Tessa.”
I set my glass down, nerves buzzing. “You ever wonder what would’ve happened if I’d stayed here? If I hadn’t left right after graduation?”
It’s a long time before he answers. First with a snort, and then, “You mean, do I wonder what stunt you would have gotten into next?” he finally replies, breaking through the current between us.
“Hey! I haven’t gotten into any trouble since I’ve been back. I’m a changed woman.” Emphasis on woman, I think to myself.
Nathan raises a brow. “Tessa, I caught you speeding the moment you passed the welcome sign. The generator went out right before Santa arrived and you just happened to be there. Almost fell off the docks and into the water. The Prices’ goats got loose.
Oh, and you crashed your car into a ditch when you shouldn’t have been on the road to begin with.
All of that in the first what, week that you’ve been back? ”
I can’t fight the blush in my cheeks. “Okay. The speeding thing was kinda my fault. But the ditch wasn’t on purpose!”
“None of it is ever your fault, is it Tessa?” he teases.
“Exactly. You’re finally beginning to understand. I’m merely a victim of circumstance.”
He grins and shakes his head. “You should know, I’ve been on high alert since you rolled back into town,” he says, his voice rougher sounding. Sexier.
The words hang in the air between us for approximately three seconds, and then I move.
Or maybe he does.
It doesn’t matter. Because the next thing I know, his mouth is on mine—rough, searching, hot enough to burn right through the chill that’s been clinging to me since the storm started.
This kiss is everything I shouldn’t want and everything I can’t turn away from.
When he finally pulls back, his breath is unsteady and his forehead is pressed to mine.
“Bad idea,” he murmurs.
“The worst,” I whisper. “But I’m not sorry.”
Neither is he. I can feel it in the way his thumb traces my jaw, the way his breath shudders against my skin.
Then he leans in, his voice barely a rasp. “You should get some sleep.”
“Yeah,” I say, though neither of us moves.
“We shouldn’t,” he says quietly, but his hand is still on my face, his warm thumb dragging lightly along my lower lip. The motion makes my breath hitch.
“I know.” I whisper, even as I lean into his touch. “But you kissed me first.”
He huffs a soft, humorless laugh. “You didn’t exactly stop me.”
“Would you have wanted me to?”
That gets me a look—sharp, pained, and wanting. He exhales through his nose and shakes his head, almost like he’s trying to clear it, but when his gaze finds mine again, the restraint there is unraveling thread by thread.
Before he can answer the power flickers briefly again and then we’re draped in darkness except for the glow of the fire.
The storm howls outside. Inside, it’s just warmth, passion, and everything we both know is about to change.
“You never did know when to stay out of trouble,” he mutters, eyes still focused on my lips.
I smile faintly, daring him. “So you’ve pointed out. More than once.”
He swears under his breath and his hand moves, tracing down the side of my neck, his thumb brushing the pulse there.
The fire crackles, but the only sound that matters is the quiet inhale he takes before he leans back in—slower this time.
His lips find mine again, not the desperate clash from before, but something darker, deliberate.
His tongue teases at my bottom lip, tasting, testing, and I open for him without thinking.
The kiss deepens until I forget where I end and he begins. Bourbon, smoke, and the heat of him fill my senses, and when his hand slides into my hair, I almost melt into the rug.
He pulls back just enough to breathe me in. His forehead presses to mine again, and I feel him fighting every instinct to stop. “You’re making it really damn hard to do the right thing here, Pope.”
“Then don’t.” The words slip out before I can take them back. “For once in your life, Nathan, let go. It’s okay to lose control sometimes. Fun even.”
“Christ,” he hisses, tipping his head back to stare at the ceiling like he’s praying for patience. His chest rises and falls, steady but strained. “I always said you’d be the death of me, Tessa Pope.”
This time I move first, crawling over to him and closing the distance between us.
I straddle his lap and place my hands on his shoulders.
Feeling bold—reckless even, just like he says I am—and empowered by the way his breath catches, by the heat radiating off his body, I dare to ask, “Yeah, but can you think of a better way to go?”
His hands find my hips like they belonged there all along. His grip is firm, possessive, almost punishing. He exhales a shaky laugh that ghosts across my throat. “You never back down, do you?”
“Not when I find something I really want.” My voice is low, shaky for all of my bravado.
“Dangerous thing to say,” he mutters, his thumbs brushing under the hem of my shirt. His eyes meet mine—dark, warning, and wanting. “You don’t know what you’re asking for.”
“I think I do.”
Something in him snaps and he groans—quietly, like the sound of a match striking in the dark.
His mouth crashes into mine again. His kiss is hungry, claiming, filled with all the things he’s been holding back.
I taste every unsaid word, every moment of pretending I was still the kid he remembered instead of the woman sitting in his lap, asking for trouble.
His hands roam over the thin fabric of my shirt, stopping just below where he shouldn’t go. The restraint in him is palpable, his body trembling beneath my fingertips.
“Tell me to stop,” he breathes against my lips.
I shake my head. “I can’t. I won’t.”
He hums softly, a sound that vibrates through me, before dragging his mouth to the edge of my jaw, down to the place where my pulse stutters. “I don’t want to hurt you.”
“Maybe I enjoy a little pain.”
He stills, pressing a kiss against my collarbone, his breath hot against my skin. When he finally looks up at me again, there’s a war in his eyes—duty on one side, desire on the other—and I can’t tell which one is winning.
For a long moment, he just stares at me. Then, with a groan that sounds like surrender, he whispers, “I should go get some blankets and pillows before I forget who I’m supposed to be.”
I smile, shaky and breathless. “And who’s that exactly?”
“A man who doesn’t touch a girl who’s way too young for him.”
I lean in, close enough that my lips brush his ear. “I’m not a girl anymore, Nathan.”
His hands tighten, his jaw locking as he draws in a ragged breath. “Yeah,” he says finally. “That’s what scares me.”
“I won’t beg, Nathan. But,” I pause, grinding against him and smirking when he curses under his breath. “You should know that I want this. With you.”
And if he denied me right now? Well, I may just combust into flames.